The Raging Blaze
by Snow'sLuckyCat
Summary: Back on Pete's World (aka Alt-Earth), tragedy soon befalls Rose and the Tenth Doctor duplicate. But, who will actually pay the ultimate price?
1. Part One: Of Fire & Death

**Title:** The Raging Blaze (1/4)

 **Author:** Snow'sLuckyCat (aka Sharma aka jsl aka me)

 **Fandom:** _Doctor Who_

 **Categories:** Angst, Hurt/Comfort (Whump City, folks!), Romance

 **Rated:** T (for whump  & a few British "curse" words)

 **Characters:** 10.5 (Johnny Noble), Rose Tyler-Noble, Pete Tyler, Jackie Tyler, Tony Tyler, some OC's.

 **Pairing:** 10.5/Rose

 **P.O.V.:** Third Person (he, she, it, etc).

 **Timeline:** One year on from "Journey's End" (4x13) & on Pete's World.

 **Word Count:** ~1,333 (for this part only)

 **Summary:** Once back on Pete's World (aka Alt-Earth), tragedy soon befalls Rose and the Tenth Doctor duplicate. But, who will actually pay the price?

 **Notes:** I was inspired to write this, because of "The Fire," an awesome fellow Ten II/Rose fic, that was written by the excellently and totally super-duper wishiknewwho! :) I suggest YOU go and read it too... :D

 **Disclaimer:** I only WISH I owned the Tenth Doctor or anyone else in the _Doctor Who/Torchwood_ clan of characters. In truth though, Russell T. Davies (the creator and first Head Writer of New Who) and BBC1 and BBCA (the stations that both shows currently air on) are their owners. So, please don't sue at any rate, for I make absolutely NO money off of this, and am instead just writing and experimenting with these characters of yours for FUN... :)

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 **PART ONE: OF FIRE & DEATH **

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 _ **The Present...**_

The bright orange flames licked the sky.

The fire was out of control.

Fire engines were everywhere by the time she got to the building. The water hoses were not taming anything though. The building was coming down; she was sure of it. The real problem though was that she couldn't find John. And that worried her more than anything.

He'd been working on the newly renovated third floor, because he'd hated his first lab, housed in the basement. The change, initiated a month before, had made him way more happy at work, which in turn made him even more happy at home, in their flat and with her. And it made _her_ happy to see _him_ happy. He was quite fond of the vast amount of sunlight that now streamed into his new area...

Or the sunlight that _**had**_ streamed into it.

Now, as Rose Tyler-Noble looked up to the row of third story windows through the thick, billowing smoke, she realized the explosion hadn't occurred below or above them. The explosion had _**come from**_ them.

And before she knows what's happening, she's off and running towards the building.

"Where do you think you're going, miss?" a hand shoots out from nowhere, grabbing her by the arm to hold her back from the fiery inferno. The hand's attached to a yellow-suited arm. A fireman. He was sooty and dirty.

"Ha-Have you been inside?"

"Yes."

"My husband?"

"Sorry, miss, I didn't see anyone when I went in."

"I-I-I have to go. I have to find him! Let me go!"

The fireman didn't listen.

Didn't let go of her.

She was wasting time.

 _He_ was wasting her time.

She needed to get in there.

She barely heard the man's empty words of comfort. The "I'm so sorry for your loss, miss. The blaze is just too hot and has gotten out of control too fast..." was almost impossible to deal with, or to even hear. Mainly because she thought she'd never hear them.

She'd thought they'd always be together, fulfilling the promise that he'd made to her all those many months ago, when they were still standing upon the beaches of Bad Wolf Bay, right after The Doctor had left them.

Almost a year later to the day, _**now**_ what did she have?

XXXXXX

 _ **Twelve Hours Earlier...**_

Rose Tyler-Noble wakes up, excited...

For tomorrow is their one-year anniversary.

To celebrate, they've made plans to go on a trip to the countryside and take it easy. They planned to hole up in a bed-and-breakfast somewhere along the way and exist away from Torchwood, UNIT, the lab, and work in general. Away from everyone and everything, for the next two weeks.

No phones. No pagers.

No dangers. No perils.

Just fun in the sun, spent near the scenic cliffs and sandy-white beaches of Dover.

But, John, also lying in bed, and snuggled up next to her, sleeps on, oblivious. He subconsciously murmurs something about five more minutes into the crook of her neck when she pointedly nudges him with her elbow. Even though she knows he feels weird when she watches him sleep (an equally weird thing since he never used to sleep while in his other life), she can't resist doing so.

At least, on a few occasions...

 _ **Like now**_...

Carefully, she picks up his right hand from its perch alongside her hip. The fingers of his left are tangled up in her long blonde hair. He loves her hair. He says it's so soft and smells of strawberries and bananas when he touches it. So, he touches it a lot. But, she doesn't mind. She still wonders though, if that unique desire is one of the odd tics that he picked up from the metacrisis and his life-force's temporary merge with Donna.

Expertly untangling his remaining hand from the top of her head, she turns over to face him.

His eyes are still closed. His lips are slightly parted, and even though she just roused him, a snore works its way into the air around them. And she can't help but giggle. And the giggle ruins her moment of previously silent observation.

His rich brown eyes pop open immediately and sharpen on her grinning face.

His final snore cuts off abruptly.

"Oyaaah! What's so funny?" he asks, a befuddled look upon his face.

"Nothing," Rose answers quickly.

She finds herself covering up a secondary giggle that escapes, with the piece of coverlet that now fortunately separates them.

"But, you NEVER giggle, Rose. Weeeeellll, not unless you're watching me work or you happen to see one of the soap operas I watch. And last time I checked the TV was off and I wasn't working...You were watching ME, weren't you?"

She's quick to change the subject. "You know what today is?"

"9 o'clock on the morning of July 4, 2009. Independence Day for the Americans. And in the middle of a bloody summer heatwave for us. _And_ the day before our one year anniversary."

"So, you _did_ remember then? I didn't think we'd actually discussed _why_ we were going."

"Of course I remember, love. I don't need a reminder or a discussion. We made plans to travel into the country. Get away from it all. So, I kinda figured...what with the date and all..." he tapers off, smiling at her gently, right before turning his face away from hers and yawning.

"...You know we don't have to go if you don't want. We can stay here. I know you're tired.

All those late shifts are bound to be catching up to you..."

"Nah. Nonsense. I'm fine." Another mouth-splitting yawn betrays him then.

"And you were saying?" Rose counters pointedly.

"A momentary lapse?" he squelches.

Rose grins in response and kisses him on the nose, before getting up and properly greeting the day. John follows close behind her, forever like her shadow...

XXXXXX

 _ **The Present...**_

All of that earlier joy is long-gone now however.

It's just after nine o'clock in the evening of the same day. And she's left with just fleeting, fading, happy memories. She wonders if she'll ever see him again. If she'll ever even be able to recover his body for burial...

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 **TO BE CONTINUED...**  
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	2. Part Two: Of Earth & Life

See **Part 1** for FULL header...  
 **  
Title:** The Raging Blaze (2/4) **  
Author:** Me aka Sharma aka jsl aka S'sLC **  
Word Count:** ~2,955 (for this part only)

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 **PART TWO: OF EARTH & LIFE**

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...She hears a crackle behind her. A static-filled voice over the radio.

She overhears the message " _ **David, I don't believe it myself, man, but someone survived**_ _ **the explosion. I'm bringing him out now. He was on the staircase, pinned underneath**_ _ **some debris from the roof. I repeat someone survived the explosion. And I'm bringing**_ _ **him out now. Have a gurney and some oxygen ready though.**_ "

Rose can't believe what she's just heard over the radio.

 _Could it be that her Doctor was found and found alive? Could fate have smiled upon him twice_ _in one year? Were they both really that lucky? Or was this some cruel extension of an already_ _soundly mean prank? One that could still very well end in death..._

"Where are you?" David into the walkie-talkie.

" _ **Um...We were on the far side of the building. But, the way down over there is thoroughly**_ _ **blocked by even more debris. We're making our way to our original position now. We're**_ _ **nearing the staircase now, so stay put."**_

"Will do, Simon. Be careful."

A sudden burst of loud static is David's sole reply this time.

"It's coming down!"

Sure enough, five stories above them, the nearer part of the roof was starting to cave in to match the sunken part that had already come down on the mostly, fortunately empty rooms within. A loud noise of metal twisting and cables buckling came through tthe radio link, as did shouts of alarm.

Then, silence, as the roof settled upon the ground, letting loose a giant plume of dust hundreds of feet upwards and into the night sky.

Matching looks of horror grace the upturned faces of both Rose and David.

"It gave no warning..." David finds himself muttering, shocked at this new developement.

"No. It can't be! It can't end like this..."

Before David can stop her a second time, Rose is off like a shot, running towards a familiar doorway partially concealed by the smoke and dust that's still billowing out from the now-doorless space. A lone fiercely coughing firefighter emerges suddenly. Simon.

"Where is he? Where's the Doctor?" Rose shouts into his face.

The man can't reply. He's too busy sucking in the cleaner air of outside.

"It was the damnest thing, lady. The man I was with. *cough* John. He was hurt, but he had this thing. Like a torch, but different somehow. *clears throat* He pointed it at the roof and it didn't collapse until I was clear. He might also have pushed me in the right direction. Like I said, the damnest thing. Right after that, the roof finished falling, and..." the man shakes his head and walks off a little ways, still coughing softly.

 _He's dead. Last year, I went all that way, traveled through the Rift and back, and burned up two_ _suns in the process, to get him back. Only, I wind up with a copy that's part Time Lord and part_ _Donna. And, now, even he's been taken from me..._

Tears in her eyes, Rose turns away from the doorway, only to stop and spin back around, when her peripheral vision picks up the weak flickering of the sonic screwdriver's familiar blue light piercing the inner space's gloom. The light bobs slightly. Falters.

Steeling herself, she ventures into the ruins.

At first, she doesn't see him. Dust and grit covers everything in a thick layer of white and yellow. And then, something, a board, shakes and shimmies while already on the ground. A patch of dirty denim blue is uncovered, as is a second bloody hand to match the first, still resting on the ground and holding the sonic like it were his only lifeline.

"Johnny?" Rose hazards. "Doctor?"

A wheeze. A belated intake of breath. "Rose?" A harsh cough.

 _My name has never sounded so good coming from the lips of the man I love. He's alive!_

Rose turns back to shout out of the opening behind her.

"David, Simon, he's alive! Come quick!"

Thumping footsteps come running in her direction.

But, Rose is not waiting. She's never liked waiting, never been very patient. She dashes all the way inside, headed straight for the source of the light.

"Yeah, it's me. It's Rose. I saw the light of your sonic. I thought I'd lost you. Are you all right?" she babbles, relief finally fully flooding her mind. _He's really alive! He survived!_

She drops down beside him and fiercely hugs him like she'll never let go of him again. Tears of joy fill her eyes until she can no longer properly see. He hugs back shakily, eventually. And then the questions start.

"Why is it so dark?" he asks, looking around, confused.

"What do you remember?" she counters. _Please let his mind - his utterly bonkers and_ _bloody, bloomin' brilliant brain! - not be_ _ **too**_ _scrambled..._

"There was an explosion. I'd gone to get coffee a level up. My machine had stopped working...On my way back...Boom," he explains, waving his cut-up hands around vaguely, before descending into another chesty coughing fit.

Three hazy figures appear then, cutting off the stream of questions bubbling up in her head before supplanting them with their own. Simon, David, and a third, new man, a paramedic, if his vastly different starched, white-and-blue uniform is anything to go by.

"Sir, can you move? Can you stand up?" the medic asks.

Two curt nods answer the newest arrival.

Wordlessly, the Doctor passes the sonic to Rose, and shifts himself into a kneeling position with a low groan of discomfort, before pushing himself further upwards.

Rose, in turn, tucks the tool into the pocket of her jeans as she too stands.

But, as soon as he's fully vertical, the Doctor's legs buckle beneath him and his eyes seemingly involuntarily close again. _The dust is probably just irritating his eyes_ , Rose thinks, unwilling to think of anything more negative than that. Luckily, the other three men were all expecting something like this to happen, and handily catch him underneath his arms to keep him upright. He sags between them, strength all but spent, his tenuous grip on consciousness mostly fleeing.

 _For only the moment_ , Rose muses stubbornly.

As a unit, she and the three men, with the Doctor between them, move back out into the open air.

Sure enough, the brisk, clean nighttime air seems to bring the Doctor around again, but also ignites another vicious fit of hacking. Hearing this and with worry renewed, the fighters and medic pick up their pace and double-time their way over to their makeshift vehicle, half-dragging the fire survivor when he can again no longer hold his own weight.

"Give him some proper oxygen, Alex."

"Will do, Boss."

As soon as they reach the vehicle, Simon and David sit their charge down in the back of it. Alex nimbly hops up into the bed of the truck, carefully steps over the inert Johnny, and tugs the oxygen tank towards them for near the front part of the truck bed, cranks it wide open, and hooks up the tube end of a portable mask to it, before placing the mask part of the contraption over Johnny's nose and mouth.

At first, it's all wet-sounding, sucking heaves from the injured man. He still isn't breathing properly.

Noticing this, Rose puts a hand on his shoulder to steady, ground, and comfort him.

She mouths something that only he and she can hear over the hiss of oxygen and the gasps of his still labored breathing. Then, nodding at her, he closes his eyes again, at last relaxing. And, gradually, once the oxygen actually hits his starved, aching lungs, his coughing finally subsides.

"That's it, Johnny. Slow, even breaths. Don't overdo it," Alex coaches from overhead.

Rose turns to Simon, once she knows her husband is in good hands and working _with_ their rather primitive methods, rather than _against_ them, though she keeps a hand on his leg, having moved it from his shoulder, both to assure herself tnat he's still there and breathing evenly, and also to assure him that she's not going anywhere. "You said he was already hurt when you found him the first time?"

"Yeah, he said he was okay. But, I found him up under a broken piece of thick pipe and some fallen plaster. The water trapped inside must've mostly missed him, and actually had put out part of the fire that had previously been blocking him from my line of sight, which is how I found him. The pipe itself must've then fallen on top of him, pinning him to the ground after it had already raked him on his forehead when it first partially came unhinged. He was visibly dazed, even though he helped me when I tried to free him. Once freed, he was immediately up, but also hobbling a bit and holding his side. He was still mostly moving under his own power though. But, when I questioned him about it, he just shook his head, refused to stop so I could tend to him, and was generally verbally unresponsive, except for grunts, until we reached the stairs and started down them...He shouted a warning...And, well, you pretty much already know the rest."

"Sounds just like him. Always putting others before himself," Rose comments quietly.

"He does this kind of thing often then?" Simon asks, furtively casting glances at David, then Alex, who both nodded in return. _Something very odd is going on. Had they stumbled upon a man with a death wish? Death wishes fall_ _under suicide. And suicide of any type is expressly against the law, and its consequence is indefinite jail-time..._

"Which side was it?" Rose's only concern was for the Doctor, who was still resting.

"His right. Might've been his ribs," Alex answers quickly.

Carefully, Rose leans over Johnny to examine his possibly injured side. Pushing his jacket open and aside, she successfully untucks his shirt from his pants, and pushes the fabric up towards his neck. Simon was right. The skin underneath was a deep purple and blue and red. If he didn't have broken ribs, they were at least very deeply bruised.

She gently presses down on his chest. Nothing readily gives under her touch, thankfully - _nothing too badly broken then_. So, she retrieves the sonic from her pocket, puts it on the appropriate setting, and aims it at the darkest part of the bruising. She hears two dull popping sounds and feels Johnny's body go rigid. The most wonky of his ribs are set, but it had been painful enough to rouse him from his deep meditative state, the state she'd suggested for just this reason. If he made himself go far enough under, then there'd she knew it would help dull the worst of the pain while she worked.

It isn't the same kind of full-on healing coma that he'd had as the full Time Lord version of himself, but she knows that it's as close as he would probably ever get to that.

He opens bleary eyes. "Thanks," he mutters from under the mask.

She's _his_ shadow now.

Shadowing him as he moves the mask off his face.

As he coughs one final time into his hand.

And as he slides off the flatbed to stand upon the ground.

" _Oh yes_! See? _Cured._ As good as new even. Always _did_ love a good self-sonicing action from time to time..."

Rose is happy, but wary. Something fishy is going on. And she's not sure it's all due to the Doctor. The three men that are with them seem to be beside themselves with shock. And then they start reacting in some...not-so-nice ways.

"That man has _internal_ injuries! How can he be fine in less than ten minutes? All you did was wave that wand over him...Gimme that!" Alex leaps over the Doctor and towards Rose and the hand of hers that's still holding the sonic aloft.

Rose hurriedly backs off. "It's nothing. None of your concern. It's just a tool."

Alex turns back to the vehicle, wanting the okay to get whatever it was she had from her person and into his posession. But, David shakes his head sternly, and Alex dutifully leaves off in stalking towards her. But, Rose keeps her distance, eyeing the Doctor. He remains where he is, leaning back against the truck's still-open bed.

David looks incredulously at the man they had just helped rescue, not moving from his spot beside him. "You an alien then, Johnny? 'Cuz _that_ thing certainly doesn't act like any normal tool that I've seen. And you don't heal up like a normal human either, buddy."

"Well, that's _obviously_ because you haven't got around much yourself, have you now, you scrawny git..."

The words are out of his mouth before he knows what he's saying. And all he can think is: _Donna strikes again._ The most recent time that her abrasiveness and temper had entered his mind and exited his mouth, with very little filter, was just after he'd gotten yelled at by Jackie for letting Tony have ice cream _before_ his dinner. This had been seven days ago. And that was a new record for him, 168 long hours in a row of actually watching what he says.

It's the concussion. That's it. It's knocked everything loose. Even his mouth.

He hopes it doesn't get him into more trouble than the earful of proper manners he's already weathered.

Vaguely, he feels David bristle next to him.

But, then, before David has a chance to turn that subtle bristle into more active violece, the third voice finally speaks up.

"Eh. I dunno. He sure is a bit mouthy to be an alien, you guys. And he looks just like you and me. Besides, he's one of those _Torchwood_ folk. They probably have _loads_ of things we've never seen. Let's not waste our time any longer. He's fine, she's fine, and so our job here is done. The building is a total loss though..." Simon laments, becoming the rational voice of reason.

A silent blimp appears overhead, but a booming voice eventually drifts down to the group from an apparently affixed loud-speaker. "Rose Tyler, Johnny Noble! Are you down there? I repeat: Rose Tyler, Johnny Noble, are you down there?! If so, call me. And I'll pick you up."

Rose smiled, despite herself. _Like a bloomin' bloodhound, that one. Knows when I...when_ _ **we**_ _...may be in the midst_ _of some trouble. Just like the Doctor. Only this one's fully human. This one's her dear old dad, Pete Tyler._

"That you two then?" David asks, nudging John in the side none-too-gently with a sideways elbow.

Rose sees her husband blanch slightly and tense up. He doesn't answer the question.

She answers for him. "Yes, yes, it is. Thanks for all your help in finding my husband, but you can go now.

You're no longer needed."

David scoffs at this, but slides down from his perch next to John, who stiffly starts to move away from him and towards Rose. She looks down at her side for one moment, to snag her phone and call Pete to let him know where they are.

And that's all it takes.

In the next instant, down she goes to the ground, shoved off-balance by Alex. Her phone skitters in a completely different direction. Alex, however, retreats back to the bed of his truck, satisfied.

Rose doesn't have long to fathom if her cell got broken or not or even where it landed, nor why Alex didn't do anything more to her, for at the rougher hands of David, her husband unwittingly joins her in the next moment, sprawled out, belly up, upon the pavement just a few feet away.

Luckily, this time, he's not down for long.

"If I have to pick myself up _one more time_..." he complains, hurriedly scrambling back up, turning to face her.

Then, the truck engine behind them roars to life and the vehicle is backing up about to crush Rose into a pancake.

Rose closes her eyes, knowing it's too late. Before he even knows what he's doing though, John's tackling her sideways and into a nearby patch of uncut grass. The truck continues on, never even pausing. One man in the back, holding on for dear life, the other two within the safety of the cab.

Rose and John breathlessly watch them go.

"That was really stupid of them, wasn't it, Rose? The nearly killed you, the bloody gits. Are you all right?"

"Nothing broken," Rose replies and grins.

"Good. Good. That's very, very good," John says and grins back.

Then, he tiredly slumps next to her, eyes closing, face dipping, head lolling. _Involuntarily._

And Rose knows that she needed her phone and she needed it **_now_**.

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**_ _ **To Be Continued...  
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	3. Part Three: Of Air & Traveling

Again, please see **Part 1** for FULL header...

 **Title:** The Raging Blaze (3/ **5** )

 **Author:** Me aka Sharma aka jsl aka S'sLC

 **Word Count:** ~2684 (for this part only)

 **A/N:** Yes, I _have_ added an additional part to this story, so it will now be _5_ parts in total, _not_ just 4, which is what I'd originally planned.

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 **PART THREE: OF AIR & TRAVELING**

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Rose's gaze switches sharply up from the floor to a point just over her left shoulder, as her dad purposely strides from the lounge area.

The look on his face is serious, grave. But, then, upon seeing her, his expression softens and a small smile graces his lips.

Rose can't ask the question fast enough, voicing the question that's been burning its way through her mind for the past 10 minutes. "How is he?"

"Comfortably resting in there," Pete explains, pointing back to the separate room that resides behind him. "He still has a bit of a headache and his ribs are tender, but I think he'll be okay with some rest and recuperation time."

"Thanks for picking us up, Dad."

"I'm just glad he didn't die in that towering inferno. Not only because he's a good man and has helped scores upon scores of people on this planet, but also because, if he'd gotten killed, I would've lost you too."

"No, you still would've had me. I just wouldn't have had him."

"No, that's where you're wrong, Rose. You might not see it yet, but...you and the Doctor...you two are forever bonded. For better or worse. There is no way you would've survived in this place without him for a second time. Remember that I saw how glum and depressed you were before you found him again. You barely ate, and you slept even less, waking up the entire Estate with nightmares minutes or hours later. You were doggedly determined to find your way back to him. No matter the cost or consequence. So, to weather his death now after all you've been through? Well, it would've been the death of you too. And I'll be damned if I let either of those things happen under my watch."

Perception, thy name is Dad.

"Yeah, well. That didn't happen, so we won't have to find out the accuracy of that statement."

"Not now, anyway. Not yet."

I nod, letting him have the last word on that particular discussion, before quickly starting another. "So, can I see him?"

Pete's smile grows. "Of course, ya can. He's still a bit groggy, but he is awake and a familiar face would do him wonders."

"Okay..."

"I'll let you know when we land, although I'm pretty sure you'll figure that out pretty quickly for yourselves. You can sit with him for as long as you like. Just try to keep him calm."

"That, I can do."

With another gentle smile aimed at my assurance, Pete and I take our leave of each other, me intent on seeing how John is doing, him intent on overseeing the safe piloting of his craft.

Quietly, I push open the door that Pete had previously come through, and stand there briefly, just to take it all in.

Currently, my boyfriend is stripped to the waist. And there are bandages all over him. One affixed to his forehead. A neat column of four encircling his ribcage. One encircling his right bicep. And quite a few bandaids covering up the scrapes on his hands. His right leg is elevated on a couple of pillows, but no cast yet resides there. Plus, he's hooked up to an IV too, just for good measure.

His eyes are closed as if he's still unconscious, but, as I approach, I hear him talking for the first time since our altercation right after the fire. The voice he uses is rough with exhaustion and constrained pain, but it's still his. "...looks worse than it is, Rose, _honestly_..." He opens his eyes then and peers at me expectantly. "Come to spring me?" he jokes, a ghost of his usual wide grin lighting up his face.

"No, I came to make sure that you don't go wandering off."

"Oh." The tone in his voice says that he's disappointed, but it can't be helped. We're in close quarters and the last thing my dad needs is someone trying to make things better by tinkering.

"I almost lost you today, John." I feel tears already welling up in my eyes, blotting out bits of the sight before me.

"Yeah, but you didn't lose me, Rose. I'm right here. See?" The man on the cot reaches out to me, imploring me to take his still too-warm hand.

I readily accept the gesture however, happy he's making any gestures at all.

"Told ya before that I'm never going to leave you. I've got only one life, and I'm spending it with you. Remember?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I remember. But..."

"No buts. I meant that. Not even a 'towering inferno' could keep me away from you."

"So, you were listening in on me and Dad?" I comment, only mildly surprised.

"Not trying to. Just... Small ship."

I nod, accepting.

"I love you," I suddenly blurt out. _Where did THAT come from?_

"Quite right too." John's immediate, rueful reply.

The eerie echo to all those years ago, to hours spent standing on a desolate, windswept bay in Norway, is not lost on me and I can't help but shudder, quickly becoming wrapped within that distant ache of a memory.

But, this Doctor doesn't stop there. Doesn't tease me. Doesn't taunt me. He comes right out and says it. Like it was nothing in the world. Only, it means everything to me.

"And I love you too, Rose."

The sudden compulsion to kiss him overrides any other additional words that I can say back, be they slightly wiseass or similarly sentimental.

I surge forward. Capturing his lips with my own. Finding my fingers carefully running through the shaggy hair on the nape of his neck.

A content moan of pleasure soon meets my ears.

The moment passes all too quickly, but I finally feels like he won't vanish into thin air, that this illusion of happiness is really truly real and won't likewise disappear. That these precious moments won't abandon me in a reality where, instead of kissing him, I'm claiming John's burnt remains in the city morgue.

"Stay with me?" He puffs into the air, drowsy and breathless with the momentary lack of oxygen.

"Of course. Forever, remember?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I do. Hop on then. This cot is easily big enough for the both of us."

"Are you sure that I won't hurt you?"

"Nah. I'm all right. Just can't get close enough to you is all."

Carefully obliging, I toe off my boots and slide up onto the bed. I feel John shifting behind me, making room. A sudden hiss of mild frustration from behind, however, almost has me trying to scramble back into the chair sitting next to the cot. _This is silly. I should get back down..._

But, then, I feel an arm slowly snaking around my waist. Then, the heat of John's bare torso is radiating through the back of my shirt as he shifts closer to me once more.

"Ta. That's better," he rumbles. The vibrations of his voice in his chest tickle me. His actual voice even ruffles my hair. "You comfy?"

"Still worried I'm hurting you, actually."

"Nothing to do with you, sweetheart. Just hit a particularly tender place when I was making room."

"Your ribs?"

"Uh-huh." A drowsier-than-earlier rumble.

"Are you going to sleep?"

"Still a bit tired."

"Go on then."

"You'll still be here when I wake up, right?"

"Yeah. Of course."

I feel him plant a kiss on the top of my head that lingers for minutes after. And the next thing I hear is a soft sigh, followed by a light snore. He's gone on back to the Land of Nod. Restful slumber is my only wish for him now. His steady heartbeat eventually sings me to sleep as well.

xxxxxxx

A violent gasp wakes me up from what had been a lovely dream.

I had been dreaming there had been no fire, that John and I had simply taken off in my car to a small bungalow right next to the seaside, and that he was lounging around in nothing but board shorts, his injuries nothing but a distant, faulty memory, and I was dressed in nothing but a colorful sarong and a two-piece swimsuit.

But, now, there's a visceral shaking feeling. A wild jostle. It takes me a minute to realize the wild jostle is coming from the other person in bed with me. I quickly flip over, and peer at John. He's practically convulsing. His eyes are flickering and the pleasantly warm body heat radiating from earlier is now outright searing. _Fever_ , my brain distantly supplies. _Internal bleeding_? _A punctured lung_? _A seizure?_

Tears of exertion collect at the corners of his eyes.

His lips part and words tumble out. "You've got me already. Don't you hurt her. Leave her alone! Rose, Rose, run! RUN!"

 _A vision of our future? A spectre from our shared past? Or simply a nightmare of an unrealized imminent separation?_

Regardless of whatever it is, I try to soothe it away, forcing a sense of reassurance into my words. "John, listen to me. I'm right here. I'm safe. No one's trying to hurt me. Can you wake up for me? Come on. Wake up. Please wake up."

I lean over then and kiss him on his forehead, on his cheek, on his lips, trying to bring his mind back to the present, to the real.

Abruptly, his words halt, as if sensing I'm nearby, and he quiets back down. Stills, sighs.

"John? Can you hear me? Are you awake?"

"Yes, to all of the above, love."

"Everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be, love?"

"Well, you were talking in your sleep."

"Oh, really? What'd I say?"

"Nonsense, mostly," I lie. _No need to scare him in his waking moments too. Especially if a bad dream was all that it was._

"Ah. Must've been some dream then."

"Um. Do you remember any of it?"

xxxxxxx

"Can't say that I do," I respond. _A small lie. Rose doesn't need to know that I actually DO recall some bits of fleeting mischief and some pieces of pervading danger, although I can't yet remember anything concrete. I also get the sense that she might be lying a bit to me too. About what she heard me say. Maybe she doesn't want to frighten me like I have already clearly frightened her..._

"You had me worried. You were practically convulsing. And you were burning up. I thought you were having a seizure."

"I never seem to rest well when I'm hurt. I used to be able to go into a restful healing coma, and wake up fully fixed. Everything takes much longer now. My temperature was elevated because my body is fighting off infection, as I still can't tolerate any type of aspirin. The convulsions feed into that same Time Lord phenomenon."

" _Part_ Time Lord," Rose corrects, with a small smirk.

I'm still too weak to sustain an argument, so I wage a tepid agreement. "Fair enough."

The blimp changes course abruptly then and we slide off the cot like wet towels off a rack. The fall to the floor isn't that far, but it still jars my aching head and leg. Luckily, Rose was able to catch herself and not land on top of me.

"What the hell was that!?" Rose yells, annoyed at the rude interruption. She is already up, however, up and stalking towards the doorway and the pilot's room beyond.

A voice calls over the intercom, Pete again.

"Hang on back there! We might have a problem..."

"Define problem," I puff, breathless and sore once more.

"We might be under attack from the ground. We're taking evasive action. There's a cloud bank up ahead. A rainstorm's coming. We should be able to hide in it for a while. We're only picking up rain and wind on our radar, so no thunder or lightning. We should be fine. Sorry about the late warning," Pete explains. "Is he all right?"

His last question is obviously aimed at Rose. Even though I'm right here and fully capable of answering it for myself. "Yes, yes, I'm quite all right," I grit, trying to not lose my cool at this new subtle indignity.

"Rose?" Pete prompts, as if I'd said nothing at all.

"We both fell. He's fine. I'm fine. No one's hurt any worse than before. I think he just got the wind knocked out of 'im. But, warn us next time, yeah? Preferably _before_ we go flying..."

She's looking at me now, worry coloring her expression for a second time.

"Good. Good. See that he stays off that right leg. His ankle is sprained. And his knee has a rather bad bone bruise. We're going be up in the air for a while longer yet, what with our alternate landing station becoming our new destination. We should put down near Liverpool. Our little problem will soon be but a fleeting memory, because we're currently going 500 miles an hour, and his top speed can't be more than 70. Thus, you two can freely observe the advantage of having an airship."

Finally, after taking a deep breath, I find my ability to speak normally again. "Did you get a good look at him? Or her?"

"We saw a motorcyclist briefly, right before the explosions started. Looked like a Molotov cocktail the first few times. Then, they switched to sticks of old-fashioned dynamite. Pretty low-tech, if you ask me, although I have no idea how they were able to throw it so far that it came close to hitting us. We were a good fifty feet up up in the air."

"I don't know either, but I'm going to find out."

"No, that's quite all right. After all, you can't do anything from up here. When we entered the wall of clouds, we lost all visibility of the ground. We can't see them anymore. Luckily, they can't see _us_ either."

Sure enough, outside, there are strands of clouds almost totally obscuring the shadowy ground far below. _Well, that's a relief then. Maybe whoever it was simply gave up._

xxxxxx

But, what Pete, Johnny, Rose, and even their personal pilot, Joshua, don't know, is that their grounded pursuer has not given up. Not at all.

In fact, the motorcyclist still travels hard and fast far beneath the airship's windswept wake, determined not to let her quarry slip away quite so easily. Dangerous deluges and fierce winds, be damned.

She _will_ have her revenge.

xxxxxxxxx

 _ **To to be continued...**_

xxxxxxxxx

 **A/N, continued:** So, I really have no excuse for this latest obscenely long delay. But, I still am sorry for it, guys. My muse up and left for greener pastures for a while. Luckily, he finally returned so that I could finish this chapter. Currently, I'm working on the final two parts of this unexpectedly lengthy saga. Hopefully, there won't be another 2+ year gap for that next update. We'll have to see though...

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated & cherished fully, as is any amount of constructive criticism.


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